


bloom bravely

by aetherae



Series: yuri/estelle week 2018 [1]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: (just like canon), Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, yuri is smitten and head over heels for her what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherae/pseuds/aetherae
Summary: To some people, Estelle looks to be a perfect flower. Yuri knows better.





	bloom bravely

**Author's Note:**

> ZERO EDITING, ZERO BETA-ING, WE'RE GOING IN WITH A HASTILY WRITTEN 4AM FIC AND NOT LOOKING BACK/ which is to say that after like... a month and a half of not writing anything, i knew i needed to kick my butt back into it with SOMETHING and what better way to do that than with mist's 2018 yuri/estelle week. tbh i'm surprised i even managed to think of something for this prompt..... and finished it............ SO AS QUESTIONABLE AS THIS EXTENDED METAPHOR OF A FIC PROBABLY IS, I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

> **day 2 – flower/vase**

Every so often, Yuri makes a trip to the castle in Zaphias. Sometimes it’s to hassle Flynn for fun, other times it’s to give the Council a hard time by sneaking in just because he can, but more often than not it’s for Estelle. Because he’s in town and it’s a good chance to see her, because she wants in on causing a bit of trouble for the Council, because sometimes they have to go long periods of time without each other and she misses him, and who is he to deny her some company?

(And okay, because he misses her like crazy just as much. Karol and Judith can poke all the fun they want at how wrapped around her finger he is, but even if it’s obvious, he doesn’t need it shouted for all of Dahngrest to hear.)

Without fail though, no matter when he goes or what season it is, he always finds the castle gardeners doing the same thing. Tending the flowers, rooting the weeds, trimming and pruning the plants into uniform, perfect silhouettes.

At least up until Estelle runs by in a whirlwind of activity, whether it’s because she has one meeting after the next or because she’s apparently made a personal mission of chatting up and befriending every castle worker she sees. It always strikes him that for as much as those old geezers tried to groom her into the perfect figurehead leader, prune and shape her into a beautiful, empty flower, she managed to find a way and blossom wildly on her own anyways.

In the castle especially, she looks the part of the ideal princess without a doubt. With her hair done up and gowns so long he still doesn’t understand how she can run—let alone fight—in them without tripping, she strides into every meeting, every socialite gathering, so elegantly he feels it in his bones that she belongs there. She’d told him once that decorum and appearances are the armors of nobles, their weapons, and no matter how much he can’t fathom it himself, he still looks on in awe every time she practically glides between greetings, manages to convince some noble of a radical ideal with nothing but a charming smile and gracious laugh.

Oh, but as much as she might look like a pretty, pruned flower and nothing more, he’s seen the wild, untamed thorns just as clearly, and the wolf in him can’t help but bare his teeth in a sharp, proud grin when she lets them loose.

He wishes he could be there to see it more often, but the one time was enough, when one of the Council members said something so ludicrously stupid that even Ioder looked appalled. It could’ve been about him, about the guilds, about Estelle herself, he honestly can’t even remember, but he knows he’ll never forget the look on Estelle’s face after: the righteous fury, the unyielding set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. She silenced the Council with a single slam of her fist on the table, stripping the Councilman of his position, his titles, filing each accusation and judgment in accordance with the Empire’s laws. Yuri would’ve laughed at how the old man’s face turned white as a ghost if not for how speechless he was, awed and mesmerized while Estelle stood her ground like a flower in full bloom.

The princess of the empire’s fought off assassins with nothing but her floor-length gowns and a vase, challenged nobility to duels over her friends’ honor, trudged through sewage and flooding waters without even a blink when the Lower Quarter’s mana-based aqua blastia broke for the first time. And that’s just what Estelle gets up to in Zaphias—he’s positive the castle couldn’t even begin to imagine what their princess did outside of it.

And Yuri? He’s no gardener, but he’ll help her bloom for as long as he possibly can.


End file.
